Too Much Too Soon
by Objective Mistress
Summary: Asami takes a reluctant Mako out for his birthday in Republic City and gets more than she bargained for. Masami friendship between Books 3 and 4.


**Title:** Too Much Too Soon

**Rating:** T

**Word Count:** ~3100

**Summary: **Asami takes a reluctant Mako out for his birthday in Republic City and gets more than she bargained for. Masami friendship between Books 3 and 4.

**Author Note:** Bit of inspiration for a tidbit here was borrowed from bob. I haven't written much from Asami's perspective, so I hope this turned out okay!

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"Mako, come on," Asami crossed her arms. "We're going out for your birthday this year and I am _not_ going to let you ditch me like you did last year."

"I did not _ditch_ you last year," Mako huffed from the couch. "I got called in to work a vacant shift."

"If by 'called in,' you mean that you called in so you could avoid me taking you out, then yes."

He polished off the dish of noodles he had made for dinner just before Asami showed up at his apartment's door, "You know I don't like going out."

"You love it."

"Yeah, once I get completely trashed."

"That's fun isn't it?"

"In some ways…" he shrugged.

It was true. Mako, ever a fan of control, didn't like to give up this hold over himself lightly. This of course meant that drinking to drunkenness meant voluntarily giving up much of the control he liked. Even getting one drink into his hands at an evening function was a victory that she quietly celebrated with a large sip from her own drink. But once that first drink was downed, the second, third, and beyond followed quickly.

Asami sat down next to him, "When was the last time you had some fun?"

He looked down into his lap, "Probably when we sent Bolin off a month or two ago."

She couldn't help but be concerned to watch as his work consumed him more and more. After Korra left, and it was evident that the promise of being back in a few weeks had stretched to an indefinite amount of time, Mako threw himself headfirst into his detective work. Admittedly, he was wonderful at his job. She was so happy to see him making a real difference in the city that needed desperately needed it. But with Bolin gone, and only an empty bedroom with a few neatly packed boxes of knickknacks left behind in his wake, Mako was becoming more solitary than ever.

"Let me take you out for some drinks," she placed a hand on his arm. "You need to keep the stress off."

He looked unconvinced.

"Hey, I fixed your police cruiser that you damaged on personal time before Beifong could notice," she crossed her arms with a smirk. "You owe me. And since you refuse all the gifts I've tried to give you, the least I can do is give you a nice night."

Mako took a deep breath. "Okay, okay! Fine, where do you want to go?"

"It's your birthday. Do you have a preference?"

"Honestly…no."

Although Mako could come off as stiff, she knew better. The last two years in Republic City had taken their toll on him. It was easier for him to occupy himself with Triple Threat Triad busts just as it was easier for her to bury herself in a new lineup of Satomobiles and the construction of the new Republic City Central Train Terminal. It wasn't avoiding reality; it was simply choosing immersion in a reality in which they had more efficacy over the outcome.

Eventually, they both had to come to terms with the fact that they had no ability to influence when Korra came back. They could only hope that someday, hopefully sooner rather than later, she would return healed and whole.

"Well I'm not going to suggest Kwong's," she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, no thanks," Mako cracked a small smile. "We don't need to revisit that."

Asami was thankful that she and Mako remained friends after all that happened. Most of the things she had heard over the years said that exes couldn't be friends. It was odd, but they almost benefitted from the closeness they shared during their brief romantic relationship. There was an unspoken understanding between the two, which especially with the absence of both Korra and Bolin was quickly becoming a lifeline.

"I know a good club. Not too fancy, but not too casual. It's not the sort of place where your feet stick to the floor."

Mako's put down his dish, "Let's go."

"Great! I'll drive!"

Admittedly, Asami didn't get out much anymore aside from with Mako either. Despite her reputation as a young socialite, work was consuming her. The fact was that she missed having Team Avatar around. Spending time with Mako was the closest that she could get.

"Is this new?" Mako ran his hand over the soft leather seats of the Satomobile.

"Prototype model," she smiled proudly. "Brand new engine configuration. We're trying out an inline arrangement of the pistons so we can try manufacturing fewer cylinder heads and camshafts."

"You think I know what any of that means?" He buckled up. "I just put gas in my car and it goes where I need it to."

Asami shot him a quick smirk at the red light "I don't like to underestimate people."

"I shouldn't either," he snorted. "Last time I underestimated you I woke up on the floor with an electrocution burn on my chest."

"That was your fault."

"I know, I know. Trust me, I won't be making the same mistake again." He laughed, "That is, as long as you don't even _think_ about getting back into this car tonight if you drink."

"I'll get a cab and get my car tomorrow," she knew he was right but hated to admit it. "No big deal."

Mako fell into silence, his gaze trained outside the window on a large lit statue in the park. It was nearly impossible to avoid missing Korra's presence with her visage lit up and on display. Asami frowned just thinking about how fast they erected the monument and shaped the public dialogue to laud her has a paragon of all things good.

"How's work?" She didn't know what else to bring up as she wove through the Republic City.

He shrugged, "It's fine."

She waited a few moments, hoping that she wouldn't need to press him for details. Luckily, finding an open street parking space broke the silence. Asami scribbled down the parking location on her idea pad in her purse; when her memory was fogged tonight she would need to know where to pick up her Satomobile tomorrow.

"It's just down the street," Asami motioned him forward.

There was always an electricity in the air in the areas of Republic City was full of nightlife. So many people from so many walks of life escaped into the clubs and bars to escape from the day. She and Mako were no different really, hoping to forget that there was a gaping hole in their lives were a certain person should have been. Well, at least they had each other.

The club was only moderately crowded. After all, Wednesday night wasn't the most popular to go out on. But despite being the middle of the week, drink specials kept customers coming through the door.

Asami pulled him into a corner booth, "We're doing shots."

Mako groaned and dropped down into the seat muttering something about it being _his_ birthday.

She quickly opened up a tab and carried three shots for each of them back to the table on a small tray. "You said it yourself that you don't start having fun until you get trashed," she met his skeptical glare.

He smiled slightly and held one of the small glasses between his fingers.

"To a good year," she held the shot in the air.

"To a better year than this one."

Asami welcomed the hot burn of the liquor down her throat. It was a searing sensation that meant that better, alcohol-induced feelings were on the way. Drinking with Mako was always interesting. He was always liable to make himself look like a bit of a fool once the booze got to him. Then again, he could probably say the same about her. He usually lost his filter when he started to get drunk. Words would flow from his mouth that Asami knew would never leave his mouth sober.

Mako held up the second shot, "To lost friends."

She clinked her glass with his, "To meeting again."

Downing the shot quickly, Asami relaxed back into the booth. She waited patiently for the fog of alcohol to cloud her mind and deliver her delightful bliss. For the first time since entering the club she took a good look at Mako. He casually watched the other patrons move around the dimly lit establishment.

"Your hair," she squinted at him. "You're styling it differently."

He ran a few fingers carefully through his hair. "I've gone with gel instead of mousse lately. Stronger hold."

Asami shook her head with a smile. The amount that Mako knew about hair products was frightening. The fluency in which he could talk about styling techniques and different hairsprays was astounding, and quite frankly a little concerning. At least now all that extra time he spent in her powder room while they were dating made sense in a way that was a far more…_appropriate_ reason than she originally thought.

Mako held up his last shot, a small smile painted on his lips. "To Korra."

She raised her glass to her lips immediately, the liquid flowing down her throat without hesitation. "To Korra," she muttered.

The sensation of alcohol flushing her system was a welcome sensation. It was a numbing agent that allowed her to momentarily drop the baggage and weight she carried with her each and every day.

She could tell Mako felt the same way as his characteristic "drunk grin" appeared on his face. His eyes followed a girl with dark hair across the room. Asami gave up trying hard to set him up with nice girls after a month or two of failed attempts. That wasn't to say that she wasn't happy being his wingman on nights out; it was just clear that she had to let things happen in this arena or risk his ire.

"She's pretty," Asami remarked. "Why don't you go get us another round?"

"I uh…" Mako's face flushed as his eyes wandered. "I'm good."

"For the drinks or the girl?"

"I'll just go get the drinks," he stood, still steady on his feet and ambled over to the bar.

She didn't want to force him to move on (honestly, part of her figured he never would). She just wanted him happy. That was easier said than done.

Eventually he wandered back, a full bottle of Flameo-Ball Whiskey and two glasses clutched in his hands. He poured them each a large portion, his hand wavering mid-action as the three shots they had began to catch up with him.

"Can I ask you something?" Mako slouched back into the booth and took a few sizable swigs.

Asami sniffed the amber liquid before taking a cautious first sip. "Flameo" was certainly an apt name. Aromas of heavy alcohol and a hint of cinnamon greeted her as she went in for her first sip. "Of course."

"Do you…" his words were showing the beginnings of a slur, his diction blurring around the edges. "…Still write to Korra?"

"Yeah," she smiled fondly. "I usually write about what's going on in business and whatever I can think of."

"Has she uh…" he took another large gulp, "written back to you?"

It was her turn to take a large swig of the fiery liquid. The liquor burned her throat all the way down as she looked down into her glass guiltily. Two years had past, and the only communication from Korra was a short letter mentioning how hard the time passing had been. And with that, came the instructions not to tell Mako or Bolin that she had written to her and not them.

Korra was right though; Mako and Bolin wouldn't understand. Their feelings would be hurt knowing that they were excluded from the only tidbit of information Korra had chosen to send. But telling Mako and Bolin came with an onus that telling Asami didn't. With her there was no expectations, no extensive explanation to be sure that they would understand.

"No. No she hasn't," she kept her gaze in her glass.

Mako drained his cup, "You know, I write to her at least once a week, sometimes more. And no reply!" He reached to pour himself another helping.

Asami was drunk, but clearly not as far-gone as he was hoping to be. "Maybe you should slow down—" she reached for the bottle, her hands clumsy.

"I-I'm fine," he took another sip. "I just…I wish I knew if she still cared about me…and us you know?"

"She does."

"Hey, you know what?" He laughed harshly, "It's been two years," he slurred, "maybe I should try again to move on. Where'd that pretty girl go?"

"Hey, you're getting kind of loud," she put her hand on his. "It's your birthday, let's just try to enjoy this."

He leaned in over the table, his empty glass tipping over with a ping when it hit the table, "Maybe you should try setting me up with someone again because maybe I can m-manage not to talk about work or where the Avatar is through one date and maybe—"

Asami shook her head, "We're going home."

"Nooo," he gawkily reached for the bottle. "You were better at setting me up with people than Bolin. He tried a few times and there was this one girl…"

She got to her feet, slightly dizzy and left a few too many bills on the table. She helped Mako do the same, open bottle clutched in his hand.

"…And she was really nice and stuff," he took another swig, "but man when we got by to her place I started kissing her neck but I couldn't get anything goin' on downstairs…"

"For fuck's sake Mako," they leaned on each other as they headed for the door, "I don't need or want to know that stuff."

"There's nothin' else to tell because I guess I didn't want anythin' to happen but I mean nothin' more could happen…"

Asami flagged down a cab and pulled Mako inside after her after quickly telling the cab driver to take them to her apartment. He leaned on her shoulder, his body practically draped over hers in the backseat. Some of the Flameo-Ball Whiskey sloshed on to her lap. She grabbed the bottle from him and took a swig for herself. Of course he had lost the cap.

"S-Sometimes," he slurred, his check pressed into her shoulder, "I still think about her when I'm alone in the shower—"

"Mako," she groaned and passed him the bottle hopping it up would shut him up.

He attempted to take a sip. Most of the liquid dribbled down his chin and on to his jacket.

"Hey! You're going to have to pay the cleaning fee if he throws up back there!" The cab driver yelled over his shoulder.

"I'll pay it anyway," Asami waved him off.

"Oh and w-when I have my one-on-ones with Beifong," he hugged the bottle to his chest, "I'm just so uncomfortable because once I leaned Korra over that desk and—"

She slapped her hand over his lips. "We're here." Quickly, she shoved a few too many bills through to the driver when Mako sloshed more of the whiskey into the back seat.

In one clumsy motion, she slug Mako's arm over her shoulder. Asami had to focus on walking in a straight line as the world shifted in front of her. Together, they stumbled up the steps and through the entryway and past one very amused doorman. Somehow, they made it to the elevator without either one of them ending up on the ground.

"You live on the fifteenth floor," Mako said as matter of factly as he could in his state. He awkwardly reached out, accidently hitting floors twelve and fourteen.

Asami groaned and fumbled to put her key into the slot next to the button for the fifteenth floor. The penthouse was all hers and the elevator led directly into her apartment.

"Fuck even elevators remind me of her," he slurred. "Once in an elevator—"

"Come on Mako," she pulled him out of the lift.

He peeled himself drunkenly out of his jacket and started to work on his shirt, his clothing rustling to the floor of the pristine hallway. Without much of a struggle, he pulled the worn tank top over his head.

"Here? Really?" Asami grabbed him by the hand.

She dragged him inside and down the hall into the guest room. A bucket still sat by the side of the bed from Mako's last time staying at her apartment. "Don't throw up on the floor if you wake up sick tomorrow—"

"I know, I know," his pants were around his ankles in record time and his hands reached for his blue-striped boxers. "Gotta use da bucket."

Asami grabbed his wrists, "Leave those on."

Mako plopped on to the bed facedown. "That's 'Sami. You're the best."

"Anytime."

.

.

Asami nursed a tall glass of water when Mako stumbled into the kitchen. His hair was disheveled and point up in every direction, his eyes squinted against the low light in the room. He was clearly more hungover than she was. Her head pounded, but luckily her stomach seemed settled enough to hold liquids down.

"Why were my shirt and jacket in the hall?" He lowered himself carefully into one of the chairs at the table.

"You stripped as soon as I got you inside."

"I don't remember any of that," he rubbed his eyes blearily.

She shot him a small smile, "You should drink some water."

"No," he waved her off. "I already threw up the nothing that is my stomach twice. I promise I'll clean up the bucket before I leave."

"You had quite the night," Asami pushed a glass of water across the table towards him anyway. "You were quite the emotional drunk."

"I remember that part," he buried his face in his hands.

"Do you…want to talk about any of it?"

"No."

He never did want to.


End file.
